1. Honoree had to show him her favorite hiding place, which happens to be the spaghetti-narrow side yard, where all of my broken down boxes from the recent move sit, looking trashy, but otherwise out of sight.
2. Nathaniel pulled down a book from this certain wobbly bookshelf and the whole darn thing came crashing down.
3. The book was a random sample that came in to work, which I brought home without scrutinizing, and it’s like, the equivalent of the Garbage Pail Kid alphabet book. Horrors!
I think that’s it.
At Claire’s birthday party afterwards, I chatted with a mom who had also received Mr. O. She confided that during the visit, her son had asked, “Can we watch a movie?” and also, when Mr. O. gave him a piece of wax to mold into a sweet little woodland animal, her son molded it into a gun. “He doesn’t even have a toy gun!” she exclaimed.
I guess there’s just something about having a home visit that brings out the devilish from all corners. Good thing I was so exhausted (it was the morning after a late opera night) that I couldn’t bring myself to get worked up about it.
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